


Here You Are

by prophet_of_troy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester is smooth, Draco's Den's A Slytherin Walks Into A Pub Fic-A-Thon, F/M, First Meetings, I'm Bad At Tagging, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prophet_of_troy/pseuds/prophet_of_troy
Summary: Daphne Greengrass walks into a bar to smooth talk a Winchester and finds herself outgunned.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Dean Winchester, implied past Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter
Kudos: 3
Collections: A Slytherin Walks Into A Pub





	Here You Are

It was a dive; low lights, a rowdy hum of laughs and voices, and somehow the entire area just seemed to smell like the colour brown. He was easy to spot, the older Winchester boy. She gripped the comforting and familiar willow of her wand, somewhat anxious at the rumours of the intolerance Hunters had for anything not muggle. Hermione said these Winchester had killed their fair share of witches, born and not. Hermione said they were dangerous, but Kingsley said she needed to get them out of town and away from the possibility of finding out what creatures were  _ really _ terrorizing the locals.

Daphne secured her wand in her wrist holster and brought a quick smile to her face before striding over to the bar, sitting two stools over from him. He was handsome, she supposed, and no doubt he knew it. He smirked to himself when he looked over at her, as though she’d already agreed to go back to his hotel with him. He took a short drink from his bottle- some hideous smelling muggle beverage- and slid across the seats between them with an admittedly charming smile. 

“I gotta say, you look a little too clean and a little too good for a place like this.”

Was this how muggle men attracted the opposite sex? It was appalling, and though it was her purpose for being in such a place, she couldn’t bring herself to succumb to such a disgusting line. She took looked over, her smile a bit more forced than before.

“Is that the best line you could come up with?”

He shrugged, his smirk growing. “It was short, succinct, and expressed what I wanted it too. What else is there to consider?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Class?”

“You’re right,” he told her solemnly. “Beauty like yours deserves poetry to be written and recited in your honour. Thou has eyes lovelier than-”

“Alright,” she laughed, surprising herself. “Enough grovelling.”

He held his hand out to shake hers. “Dean.”

That was the name! She’d forgotten which was which. She took his hand, it was warm, and shook it carefully. “Daphne.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Daphne.”

He was nicer than she expected him to be, and charming from the beginning. Slowly she could feel herself relax, smiling and laughing and wanting to make him smile and laugh with her. A barbarian, she’d called him to Hermione. A Gryffindor, if that wouldn’t be an insult to the House. 

Even now she couldn’t quite take it back and say that he wasn’t, but there were flashes in him. Comments he made and a shadow to his eyes that hinted to something deeper within him. It was intriguing. He was playing up the image of a playboy, and yet enchanting her by being anything but.

“What brings you to this side of the pond,” he asked. 

_ You do _ .

“Just, felt the need to travel,” she told him with a half shrug and a smile. “I wanted to see more than I had seen, so here I am.” 

“Here you are,” he echoed with his own. He was staring straight into her eyes without giving her a chance to look away, holding her gaze as he held her hand on the bar counter- as though they were anywhere else. As though they were old lovers meeting again for the first time in a long time. 

He was handsome. She’d noticed that from the moment she walked into the bar. With grey-green eyes that emanated sincerity. She’d asked Hermione, asked Kingsley, how he and his brother could go from place to place and lie their ways into places they didn’t belong, and but now she knew. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I just- you’re very…”

He laughed. “I don’t even have a word for it.”

She smiled. “Is that a bad thing, whatever the word is?”

“I don’t think so.”

It was time. She knew she had him, as he had her, and she made a show of looking at her watch; pulling her hand away with a genuine sigh of disappointment. She grimaced and he frowned. 

“It’s late,” she said. “And unfortunately I have to leave early tomorrow. I’m meeting a friend tomorrow afternoon in Atlanta, and there’s a lot of mileage to cover if I’m to be on time.”

She stood up and ran a hand through her long hair, discouraged that he wasn’t following suit and yet glad that she might leave without having to take his memory of her and this hour. She’d quite liked getting to know him, and wanted to leave his memory intact despite it being her job to take it. 

“Wait!” He called once she reached the door, and simultaneously she was glad and disheartened. He weaved through the sudden influx of patrons and grinned sheepishly at her. “Let me take you back to your hotel at least, and maybe get your number?”

She could quit, and then she wouldn’t have to obliviate him. The idea came unwanted and unprompted, and she baulked at herself.

But she smiled at him. 

“I would love that,” she told him, opening the door and stepping out into the chill. “Unfortunately, my hotel is right there across the road.”

Dean’s grin became roguish and lopsided and did something strange to her stomach. “What a coincidence. So is mine.”

It  _ wasn’t  _ a coincidence, but she shrugged innocently anyway and allowed him to escort her. 

It was such a small town. The stars served as streetlights, and though the bar was thriving behind them, it was late enough that the roads were bare. The motel’s office was closed- a small enough town that they didn’t have the twenty-four-hour service she’d come to expect in the States, but it suited her fine.

“Well, this is me,” she prompted as they approached her room, which was two doors from his. He told her so. “That’s crazy! And to think I only met you in the bar.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” he replied. 

Daphne laughed, harder than she’d laughed in a long time- but that truly had been a long time ago, with another green-eyed man. “Oh, what a line! I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Maybe he did, or maybe he didn’t. He didn’t give a verbal response, instead pulling her close and kissing her. She smiled against his lips and kissed him back, letting her arms pull him closer as well. Her head was floating by the time he pulled away, and Daphne felt regret sink in that she had let herself be charmed and kissed when she knew how this was to end. 

“Stay,” he said. 

“What?”

“Tomorrow. Don’t leave early. I’m sure your friend would understand. Stay in town a few more days. With me.”

Daphne really had to do it now. If she let him keep going, keep talking and looking at her with those eyes, she would lose her nerve and will altogether. Despite that thought that stuck to her mind like glue once she had it, she couldn’t quit. And even if she did, the best-case scenario would still include someone else being assigned to come and persuade him and his brother to give up on the dementors. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” she said. “Truly.”

She pulled her wand out and his eyes widened at it, anger and surprise and hurt playing across his face in a moment.

“ _ Obliviate _ .”


End file.
